Out of Season
by purpleraincloud
Summary: Part One of Chapter 3 uploaded. Alex recalls his childhood post-adoption.
1. Chapter One

Out of Season

Author's Notes: A sort of Alex and Scott: Redux. A different take on their relationship and first meeting in X-Men: Evolution canon. Will flashback to their childhood and do a great deal of retelling of each character's history. Point of view will rotate between the two characters. A bit of an experiment, so feedback would be swell. 

* * *

            "Lorna Dane." 

            "Here."

            "Jamie Madrox."

            "Here." 

            "Guido…"

            "Here."

            "Alexander Summers."

            No response.

            "Alexander Summers?"

            'It made perfect sense to me that he was dead, the same flames that engulfed my mom and dad taking Scott away from me too. And that there was no sense in believing I would ever behold him again, in the middle of a crowded train station in New York for example, standing there with that stupid smirk on his lips and that green gaze full of fascination and wonder. Nope. No sense whatsoever.'

            "Alex!"

            "Here." 

* * *

            'I had known Lorna for three years before we spoke our first words to one another. It was at a field trip to the museum, I snuck away from the "official tour" to stare at the mummies under the Plexiglas for a while longer. By the time I had snapped out of my reverie, the bus was loading. Lorna had been sent out to find me and chided me sing-songly for being a "dirt nerd." I knew then I was in love.'

            "Hey Lorna?"

            "Yeah?"

            "Not that I'm counting or anything."

            "Of course not…"

            "And not that I'm making a big deal about it or anything…"

            "Never."

            "But a year ago today we…well, we started going out one year ago today."

            "That long, huh?"

            "Yup. Never thought I'd be with you for that long."

            Lorna Dane was pretty, not supermodel pretty, but beautiful like the web of a spider. Subtle, but deadly if collided with. Alex Summers was quickly reminded of that as she arched an elegant brow up at his fumbled words. 

            "I don't mean that in a bad way or anything…it's just, unexpected."

            Lorna smiled and nodded. "Are you going to finish that or what?" she asked, pointing at the last slice of pepperoni and olives pizza. 

            "You go ahead."

            "Thanks." 

* * *

            "What was he like?"

            "Who?"

            "The guy in the picture with his arm around you that you never want to talk about."

            "Ah. Him."

            'Dad always pointed out to people how I looked like mom and Scott looked like him. Well, except for the eyes. I had my dad's eyes and Scott had my mom's. Besides that with the reddish brown hair and regal stature, Scott resembled Major Christopher Summers down to the core. They even acted alike, both extremely protective, especially of mom and me and both introverted, but in a way that exuded confidence and was more than a little intimidating at times. But I loved my father and I loved Scott. If he were still alive, I'd even tolerate his arrogance just to be around him for a little while longer.' 

            "Well?"

            "He was…"

            "Alex?"

            "My brother. He was my brother." 

* * *

[One hour ago, Washington D.C.]

            "Alex!" 

            Blonde haired, blue eyed Alex Summers looked down from the balcony of his hotel room in Washington D.C. and faked a salute to his classmate and good friend, Jaime Madrox. 

            "I swear that guy can be in six places at once," Alex muttered under his breath, before turning away from the view outside.

            "You're daydreaming again."

            Lorna. 

            "No I'm not," he fibbed. Ah, the dreaded eyebrow arches. 

            "Okay, okay, so I'm a little spaced out. Can you blame me? This all seems so…surreal." 

            "Why? Your dad is getting commemorated for his service in the Air Force, it's a beautiful day in D.C. and you're here with your friends and the girl on your dreams, what's so wrong with reality?"

            Alex leaned in and kissed her lips.

            "Green lipstick?"

 "It looks good on me. Matches my hair," Lorna replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

            Alex laughed, "You need to get your water checked. Too much chlorine or something," he told her, twirling a strand of light green hair between his fingers. "Okay, okay," he relented. "Life is good. Life is better than good. I just wish…"

            "Yeah?"

            "Scott should be here."

            Lorna frowned. "He is here sweetie. As long as you're here, he is too." Trying to brighten a little she tugged on her sweater gently, "Let's go. I hear politicians get medieval on you if you're late."

            Alex's blue eyes looked distant and faraway, but he nodded and allowed Lorna to pull him out of the room. 

* * *

            "Major Christopher Summers served on the United States Air Force for over ten years. His dedication and spirit was unparalleled and each officer here feels his loss as if so much time has not already passed. The world will not so soon see his like," General Hurst placed the tiny, golden star on Alex's palm. "Alexander Summers, as the son of Major Christopher Summers, I hereby bestow upon you the Medal of Honor in commiseration and in honor of the life and service your father gave to this country. Congratulations." 

            'Like I said before, knowing what I knew about life I never expected in my travels to turn a corner on a street in Maine and see Scott sitting on a park bench throwing bread crumbs at birds.  No. He was dead.'

            Ding.

            'Dead.'

            Ding.

            'Dead.'

            Ding.

            'Dead.'

            "Then why the hell do you have to keep repeating it to your poor, departed parents?" 

            "Jamie!" Lorna was horrified.

            "Oh come on Lorna. Someone had to say it. 'Lex, are you going to snap out of this soon, because seriously," Jamie's voice softened noticeably, "You're starting to worry me."

            Alex looked up, his blonde hair blown back by the wind so that only a few wisps dangled in front of his face. His usual bright blue eyes were a musty grey and the slight sag of his eyelids suggested lack of sleep. Besides that he looked like the same Alexander Summers who won last year's science fair with his volcano and paper on the different layers of the Earth's crust. He looked like the same Alex who won All American Meet for track three years running. The same Summers who called him out whenever Jamie went just a little too far with his jokes. It was Alex and Alex would be okay. Jamie smiled a gesture Alex returned, putting his arm around Lorna and walking away from the two headstones. Katherine Anne Summers and Christopher Summers, may you rest in peace. Amen. 

TBC…


	2. Chapter Two

Summary: Scott's memories of "zero hour" and a strange man named Nathaniel Essex counsels him after the tragedy.

* * *

            It was an unusually cold Saturday morning, meaning breakfast wouldn't be served till almost noon because even Ororo would want to sleep in. So Scott lay in bed for a few hours, staring at the ceiling and recapping the events of the X-Men's last mission in his head. Then he'd remember. Okay, so it wasn't really remembering because Scott could never forget, but the memory would blindside him and old wounds would once again draw fresh blood.

* * *

            "Scott Summers? I'm so sorry, but the young child you were with, little Alexander, passed away shortly after being brought to the hospital."

Scott rolled over to his side, throwing the blankets over his head so that only a mop of reddish brown hair could be seen from underneath. "No. It's not true. You're lying."

            "Now Scott, you know that I have no reason to lie to you," the young counselor, Scott thought he heard the nurse call him "Mr. Essex," told him gently, as if Scott would find anything this man had to tell him the least bit comforting. 

            "Go away." Scott managed to whisper from under the thin, hospital sheets that covered his body. He was trembling, but not from the cold.

            "You've been asleep for a long time, you know that? We were all getting worried about you. Your parents' plane went down in Colorado over a month ago now," Mr. Essex's continued talking to Scott's annoyance. After ten minutes passed without a response from the young boy, Essex rose from his seat. "All right, Scott, if that's what you really want, I'll leave. But I'll be back soon to check up on you," the man touched his shoulder and Scott reflexively pulled back. "We'll get through this together, okay?"

            Scott made no answer, merely buried his head in his pillow and replayed his descent with Alex from the plane and wondered what he did wrong that cost his brother his life. 

            A few days passed and Scott noticed he hadn't cried at all since the accident. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but he physically couldn't.[i] Each day a new tray of hospital food would sit on the small folding table beside him, untouched. Every once in a while someone would come in. A nurse who would smile at him and ask him in a friendly voice why he hadn't been eating or if he needed to use the little boy's room or an officer from the State Department wondering if he could ask Scott "a few questions about himself that would help him to find a nice family to adopt him." Scott didn't want a nice family to adopt him. He wanted his own family back, but he never said anything to any of them. 

            A few more days passed and the State Department called Mr. Essex back in to counsel Scott through this tragedy. 

* * *

            Scott stared at the man's desk. Beside the clutter of documents, folders and faxes, a little plaque on his desk announced his full name to be "Dr. Nathaniel Essex." Scott cringed without really knowing why. 

            "Hello Scott. Why don't you have a seat?"  

            He did, but not without a little hesitation. "You're a psychologist."

            The dark haired man with tortoise shell framed glasses smiled. "How did you guess?"

            Scott looked around the room blankly. "You seem to like to surround yourself with proof of your qualification to judge other people's lives."

            Laughing, Essex threw his large frame down onto a swiveling leather chair. "That's a rather astute observation for a ten year old."

            "I am a very astute ten year old."

            "You sure are," Essex agreed readily, opening a file that Scott had seen on his desk earlier; the label marked it as being his "personnel file."

            "Where's Alex really?"

            "I beg your pardon," Dr. Essex asked, looking up at Scott through his glasses.

            "I mean, he can't be dead. He can't," Scott pressed, keeping his voice low and grave as he had seen his father do whenever he was dealing with his military friends. Scott had found mimicking this tone of voice made people take him seriously. "I've been reviewing all the events in my head. There's no way I could be alive and he would be dead. There's just no possibility." 

            Essex smiled at Scott as if he were trying to comfort a raging man. "Scott, your family is gone now; you're going to have to accept that fact sooner or later if you hope to move on with your life."

            "You didn't answer my question."

            Throwing his papers back on his desk and pulling off his glasses, Dr. Essex sighed, "You mean where is his body? Do you really want to see it, Scott?" 

            Some part of Scott raged for him to stop questioning, to stop tormenting himself, but that wasn't the part of him that worked his vocal cords. Opening his mouth he spoke hoarsely, "Yes. Let me see him." 

* * *

            They were going into an Air Force base hanger that much Scott knew. But nothing prepared him for what he was to see when the metal gate retracted and Scott beheld what was inside. His vision bleared and he swayed-almost fell into someone's arms. Dimly, he thought he heard someone speaking to him. Probably Essex, so it was good thing Scott wasn't listening. 

            "I knew you weren't going to like it," Essex told him, a hint of something, pleasure maybe, in his voice. Scott didn't care; he struggled to stop the room from spinning.

            "Poor kid," a nearby airman whispered to his colleague, "that wreck you see there, his parents were in it when it, you know…"

            Getting a firmer grip on his voice and squelching the rising nausea, Scott asked Essex simply, "Where?" 

            "Alex's body was badly burnt when he was finally found Scott, I don't think-"

            "Where?" Scott asked again, the strength returning in his voice and a strange red light flashing in the little boy's eyes bright green eyes. 

            For a second Scott thought he saw Essex as he truly was, a twisted man who fed on his misery like a leech gorging on the blood of its victims. But just as quickly as it came, the mask came slamming back down and he replied in a normal voice, "I'll show you." 

* * *

            Ororo Monroe threw the morning paper onto the kitchen counter in disgust. In the headlines, five boys had been kidnapped from their homes in the Bayville area. All were very young, only six or seven years old with blonde hair and blue eyes. Four of the bodies were found mutilated in some form or another so that they were barely able to discern one from the other. The fifth body had yet to be found. 

            "Whoever's doing this should be caged at the zoo with the rest of the animals," she remarked, calmly spreading jam onto her toast. "Professor? Is something the matter?"

            Professor Charles Xavier shook his head from side to side to clear the mental fog in his head. "Ah, it is a shame to be so young and feel such pain."

            "Professor?" Ororo called, her silver eyes revealing the love and concern she felt for this man. 

            Xavier smiled reassuringly at her. "Come, preparations must be made."

            "For what?" asked Ororo. 

            "Our guest. Although his stay will most likely be permanent." 

* * *

            Scott ran. His eyes burned, but still no tears would form.

            'Damn him,' Scott thought over and over again. 'He wanted me to see Alex's body like that. I know he did. Why? Why did this have to happen?'

            He had spent exactly ten minutes at the orphanage before he started hyperventilating. 'I was happy, damn it. Why did you have to go and take it all away from me? Why?' Then he had just left. Through the front door. No one stopped him. No one cared. 'Everyone who ever cared was now dead. Dead. And death is forever.'

            He didn't know how far he ran or where he was or when it was that he finally collapsed. Only that before he blacked out, he hoped he wouldn't wake up ever again. 

            His wish didn't come true. And when he awoke, it was on an unusually large, comfortable bed. 

            'I see you're up Mr. Summers,' A voice was speaking to him, but it wasn't a real voice, it was a voice inside his head.

            He blinked. "Where is this place?"

            "My school," The same voice that spoke to him before answered, but this time he was actually speaking to him. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Professor Charles Xavier."

            "What exactly is it that you teach here?" Scott asked, pulling himself into a sitting position on the bed. "And how did you know my name?"

            "To answer your first question, I teach…tolerance. As to how I knew your name, well, Scott, I'm special. Much like yourself. I know quite a lot about you actually." 

            "You don't know the first thing about me," Scott replied sadly, rubbing the growing soreness at the back of his head. 

            "Oh I know much of who you are, or should I say _what_ you are. I also know very well where you've been and what you've done. But the real question is what will you do now? I have a few suggestions for you myself, but the choice lies with you, Scott. Now I ask you, what will it be?" 

TBC…

Author's Notes: Ugh, doesn't the end sound like the perfect place to bust out into a Paula Cole song? Sorry about that. 

  


* * *

[i] A fact established in the comics, although some artists/writers have chosen not to adhere to it.


	3. Chapter Three Part One

Author's Notes: A two-part chapter, I'm too tired to write any more tonight, but I'll get the second part up soon. 

Also, I forgot to mention the issue of Scott's eye color in Chapter One. They're brown in the comics and in the old cartoon. They're green in Evolution for some strange reason. Anyway, since I'm supposedly following Evolution canon, that's the way it goes. 

Summary: (Part One) Alex recalls bits of his childhood post-adoption.

* * *

            "Kids, may I have your attention please," Ms. Gibson asked the class, holding the hand of a small, blonde haired boy as he nervously shuffled his feet. "This is Alexander Masters. He'll be attending this class from now on. Please make him feel welcome." The young boy reluctantly left the teacher's side and sat between a very large boy wearing funny looking glasses and a smaller, slimmer built boy with corkscrew brown hair and a mischievous gleam in his eyes. 

            "Hi," the smaller boy said quickly as Alex quietly unpacked his stuff and took his seat beside the boy. Alex smiled at him uncertainly.

            "I'm James Mardok. But everybody calls me Jamie. This here is Guido," Jamie said gesturing to the boy beside him. Alex nodded and smiled at the large boy who waved back at him in a friendly manner. "Do people call you 'Lex?"

            "Alex," he corrected rather stiffly. He hated being called 'Lex and only tolerated it with adults or kids he knew very well.

            "All right, all right, Alex it is. Hey, want to play with me and Guido during recess? 'Cause everyone's scared of Guido, we usually get the four square courts to ourselves."

            Alex shrugged. "Kay, that sounds good to me."

            "Good." Smiling, the three boys turned their attention back to Ms. Gibson who was telling them something about dinosaurs.

* * * 

            "Yo Alex!"

            Whirling, Alex waved at Jamie and Guido.  "In a hurry?" He cried as they ran passed him. Jamie turned and stuck his tongue out at him before continuing on his way. Guido smiled and nodded. 

            "They have advance tickets to that new Josh Hartnett flick this afternoon," Lorna offered, placing her arm through his. 

            "Ah," Alex didn't "get" pop culture, which was fine with Lorna who wasn't very into it either. "What're you doing this evening, Ms. Dane?"

            Lorna shrugged. "Ten page paper on the Franco Prussian War." Alex blew a raspberry and Lorna laughed. "What about you, Mr. Summers?"

            "Ben has dinner with a client, so Wendy and I are probably going to order a pizza." Wendy was Alex's adorable, younger sister. Lorna met her once or twice and she seemed like the typical, hyper, bratty twelve-year-old. "She'll probably make me watch the Disney channel all night." Alex added grimly.

            "Poor baby. Maybe I'll drop in and make your day, eh?"

            Alex brightened. "Could you? That is, if you're not too consumed in your paper and all."

            Lorna smiled. "For you, kid? I'll make time."

            It wasn't hard to spot the Masters household even from the distance Alex and Lorna were standing. It was a large, wooden house with white washed walls, a large blue garage door and a small porch out by the door. Alex's foster father was the president of his own publishing company and his foster mother taught history at the local junior high school. Together they had a little girl named Wendy, but that was before the accident. Before…

            "Alex?"

            "Yeah?"

            "How come your mom likes to call you 'Michael.'"

            Alex winced. Michael Masters. "He was their son. Their biological son. He died in a car accident ten years ago. He was a smart, outgoing, popular kid."

            Lorna eyed Alex knowingly, "With blonde hair and blue eyes?"

            "How did you guess," Alex attempted to smile but the expression kept breaking. Finally, he shrugged. "My foster mom went through a lot after his death; she quit her job and went into a pretty heavy state of depression. Before the accident she was an attorney, very confident and opinionated. She blamed herself for the crash, you know? Figured had she picked up Mike after school like a normal mom none of this would have happened."

            "How does she treat you?"

            Alex kissed Lorna' hand lightly and looked back at the house. "Like a cheap imitation," a simple truth. He wasn't looking for sympathy, he loved his foster parents, but they wanted something, or really it was someone, that he couldn't give them. "I'll see you later Lorna." 

            Alex pushed the large wooden door open as he had done everyday for nearly a decade. "Wendy?" he called. No answer. "Mom! Dad!" Voices in the living room alerted him to the presence of people inside the house. "Mom? Dad?" He called again, walking into the room and noticing Ben and Laura Masters sitting on the couch speaking to another gentleman Alex thought looked strangely familiar.

            "Alex, sweetie, you're home early. This is Mr. Erikson, he's a client of your father's," replied Laura, gesturing for Alex to sit down. Alex awkwardly shook Mr. Erikson's hand before sitting down.

            "My, my, your little boy is an image of Michael when he was his age," Mr. Erikson told the Masters with a grin. Alex flinched noticeably and avoided looking in his foster mother's direction. Ben laughed and patted Erikson on the back. "Doesn't he? But Alex isn't our son by birth; we adopted him when he was eight years old. His parents were killed in a freak accident flying in a plane over Colorado. Alex was the only survivor. His older brother, Steve-"

            "Scott."

            Everyone turned their attention to Alex, who hadn't realized he had spoken aloud. "Scott, dad. His name was Scott."

            "Oh, right. Scott. Sorry Alex. His older brother Scott died shortly later in the hospital due to complications. When we first met the tyke, Laura and me, well our hearts just melted. We had to take him home." 

            Mr. Erikson smiled at Alex as if he were a puppy Wendy had brought home and asked to keep.

            "Well, we should head on to dinner, shouldn't we?" Laura asked brightly as if Mr. Erikson hadn't mentioned the dreaded topic of Michael earlier on in the conversation.

            "Let's," Erikson replied, rising. "It was nice to meet you, Alex."

            "The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Erikson," Alex replied with his best fake smile. 

            "Please, there's no need for formalities, call me Nathaniel. Ben, Laura, I'm starving. Let's get going." 

            Ben helped Laura into her jacket as Nathaniel Erikson watched. "We left money for pizza on the kitchen table. Make sure Wendy works on her history homework and that she's in bed by nine."

            Alex nodded, opening the door for the couple. "I know, mom. I will. Have a fun evening.

            Smiling, Laura kissed Alex on the top of his head before leaving. Ben patted him on the back and Erikson gave him a long, assessing look before departing. Alex let the door click gently shut behind them. It was going to be a long evening. 

By eight thirty, the pepperoni, olive, mushroom and pineapple pizza was devoured and Wendy was upstairs quietly working on her history homework. Alex sat, propped up on the couch, reading Joseph Heller. At around ten o'clock, Laura and Ben still weren't home and Alex was half-awake, half-asleep on the couch so that when the phone rang, he didn't get up to answer it.

"Hello, you've reached the Masters residence, leave a message for Ben, Laura, Alex or Wendy Masters after the tone and we'll get back to you as soon as possible."

"Alex? I know you're home. Pick up the phone, it's Lorna. Alex? Don't make me come over there."

A pause.

"Fine. I'm coming over there. You better get up to answer the door."

There was a click and a dial tone.

Alex drifted back to sleep with a slight smile on his face. 

* * *

            Beep.

            Beep.

            Beep.

            Alex instinctively waved his arm around, trying to slap an alarm clock that wasn't there. He opened his eyes. Woah. Big mistake. The world spun. He closed his eyes, but the nice comforting blackness that usually accompanied sleep would not come, so slowly he ventured into opening his eyes again. This time, the white room slowly came into focus. 

            "Where am I?" He whispered to no one in particular. No one answered him because no one else was in the room. It was a rather small room with one window. Beside him were beeping monitors and bags of fluids. He laid on his back on a hospital bed while a small television in front of him delivered the news report. A nurse popped her head in and smiled at him.

            "Ah, the little miracle is up. How are you feeling?"

            "Okay," he lied. "Where are my mom and dad. And Scott, where's Scott? He worries when we're not together."

            The nurse gave Alex a strange look, as if she were struggling with whether to tell him something or not. "Hold on a minute there, honey, while I go get your case worker."

            "My case worker? I don't want my case worker." Whatever that was. "I want Scott. And my mommy and my daddy. Hello! Hello!" 

            But the nurse had already retreated from the room. Alex allowed his head to sink back into the pillow and shut his eyes tightly, knowing that when he opened them again, the world would never be the same again. 

* * *

            Lorna hated how long the twelve block walk to Alex's seemed when she was worried. 'Why couldn't he have just picked up the telephone,' she fumed. Since watching Alex enter his house that afternoon, Lorna had the nagging feeling he was somehow in danger. She had already called twice that night, both calls were answered by an irate Alex telling her he was alive and well and eating dinner with Wendy. But at least he answered. Her last phone call in which the answering machine picked up disturbed her.

            She tried to take her mind off of Alex for a while by thinking about her paper, which she had managed to write all of three pages since her panic over Alex's safety began. Turning a left on Regent Street, she gladly noted she was now only three blocks from Alex's. She would only stay for a little while, Lorna told herself, picking up her pace just a little bit so that it appeared as if she were nearly floating on air. Just long enough to wring Alex's neck for making me worry so much.

            Two blocks to go. By the last block, she had lost some steam and her panic died from a spasm to a dull ache. I'm being silly, she told herself again, but did little to slow her pace down. As she turned to Alex's block a flash of light caught her eye. She blinked. Once. "My…" Twice. "…God." Any other silly thoughts she may have had about school, her paper, self-preservation, vanished. Alex's house was on fire. 

TBC…


End file.
